


the best of me loves the best of you

by marvel_middleearth



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Barricade Day, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24551746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_middleearth/pseuds/marvel_middleearth
Summary: Enjolras rounds a corner and runs straight into Grantaire, who’s panting as though he’s just run a marathon. “Apollo!” he gasps, looking relieved. “Oh, thank God. Listen, I really need some help right now.”“Sure, what do you need me to do?”Grantaire looks thrilled, albeit slightly stunned that Enjolras agreed. Enjolras is a little bit stunned himself, if he's being honest. “You’re a saint, E. Okay, so, the thing is...uh, would you mind pretending to be my boyfriend?"It turns out, pretending to be Grantaire's boyfriend is a lot easier than Enjolras first thought.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Éponine Thénardier, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Irma Boissy/Floréal, Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 135





	the best of me loves the best of you

**Author's Note:**

> In honour of Barricade Day 2020 (my first in the fandom!!), here's some Enjoltaire fluff - short, but sweet :)
> 
> This fic wouldn't exist without the unfailingly patient [Jen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbourgeoisie/pseuds/notbourgeoisie), who is an amazing beta, amazing writer, and all-round amazing friend.
> 
> Title from 'Best of You' by Andy Grammer.

For the record, Enjolras does  _ not _ like parties.

They're crowded, they're loud, he hardly ever knows anyone there, and they often end in him playing chauffeur because he's the only sober one remaining. Parties are all about  _ socialising, _ and while Enjolras knows that he can debate social  _ issues  _ all day, when it comes to making small talk and polite conversation, he's lost (according to Courfeyrac, ' _ what do you think of the current political state of France? _ ' is  _ not  _ an ideal conversation starter).

That being said, it’s not exactly hard to imagine that when it was announced that there was to be a party in celebration of finishing another year’s uni exams, Enjolras had absolutely no inclination to attend whatsoever.

It had been Courfeyrac who had eventually convinced him to attend (or rather, forced him to attend.  _ “It’s  _ your  _ university too, Enjolras!”  _ he’d insisted, before throwing a red flannel in his direction and informing him that they’d be leaving in ten minutes).

Enjolras had figured he’d be able to at least sit the party out in a quiet corner of the room and talk to Joly, who usually wasn’t much of a fan of parties himself ( _ “too many people in the one place,” _ he had once said, looking horrified by the idea.  _ “Do you know how many diseases I could potentially catch from that amount of close contact? Do we even know if the place has been sanitised? There are too many things that could go wrong” _ ) but Bossuet and Musichetta had dragged him off to meet some of their old friends almost the moment they’d arrived. Jehan was his second-best bet, but the poet had been absolutely enamoured by the flower arrangements (someone had had the money and the dedication to actually hire a building to celebrate in) and had skipped off to investigate.

Enjolras has been lingering by one of the windows for about fifteen minutes now, alternating between looking at his phone, staring out of the window, and avoiding human interaction at all costs, but it’s not exactly the most engaging pastime. If he can find a quieter place than this, he can at least work on his speech for their upcoming meeting.

His mind made up, Enjolras shoves his phone in his pocket and heads towards one of the hallways leading off the main room. It’s  _ way  _ too crowded in here for his liking — he thinks he spots the glint of Combeferre’s glasses out of the corner of his eye, but by the time he turns to look he’s been swallowed up by the crowd.

Enjolras emerges from the bustle of people and escapes into the considerably less crowded hallway. It's still not quiet enough for him to concentrate, however. He frowns, and wanders farther away from the entrance.

He rounds a corner and runs straight into Grantaire, who’s panting as though he’s just run a marathon. “Apollo!” he gasps, looking relieved. “Oh, thank God. Listen, I really need some help right now.” He grabs Enjolras by the wrist and tugs him down one of the quieter corridors, tucked out of sight from the rest of the party.

“Oh?” Enjolras says, raising one eyebrow as he allows Grantaire to drag him away. “Sure, what do you need me to do?”

Grantaire looks thrilled, albeit slightly stunned that Enjolras agreed. Enjolras is a little bit stunned himself, if he's being honest. “You’re a saint, E. Okay, so, the thing is…” his gaze darts around cautiously, despite the obviously-empty hallway “...my ex turned up the party? And -”

“Your  _ what?”  _ Enjolras splutters, momentarily taken aback.

“My ex,” Grantaire continues hurriedly. “She’s here, and she has a girlfriend, and I was a little desperate to prove to her that I wasn’t jealous—which I’m not, we’re over each other, we’re just friends now; I’m pretty sure she hated dating me anyway—but I may or may not have told her I have a boyfriend—”

“You  _ what?”  _ Enjolras echoes, struggling to keep up with where this conversation is going.

“I told her I have a boyfriend,” Grantaire repeats, worrying at his lip (it really shouldn’t be endearing, but it is). “So, uh, would you mind pretending to be my boyfriend? Just for the next few hours?”

“I— _ what?”  _ Enjolras blurts, in an epic conclusion to his bewilderment.

“Okay, forget it,” Grantaire says hastily, “I’ll find someone else...”

“No, no, I’ll do it,” Enjolras surprises himself by saying, and internally screams  _ what the hell are you doing?  _ at whichever demon is currently possessing his mind because he can’t  _ actually  _ be doing this of his own volition...can he? “I was just...surprised. I didn’t exactly think I’d be your first choice.”

“Well, I ran into you first, didn’t I?” Grantaire argues defensively. “Or rather, you ran into me. Besides, Courf, Ferre, Joly, Bossuet, Chetta, Cosette and Éponine are actually couples, Jehan’s probably oohing and aahing over the flower arrangements, Marius has no social skills and can’t lie to save his life -”

“I get it,” Enjolras interrupts. He affixes Grantaire with a pointed look. “I said I’d do it. I haven’t changed my mind.”

Grantaire looks beyond relieved. “You’re a literal angel, Enj, I could kiss you.” He flushes. “Not that I—I didn’t mean—”

Enjolras chooses to ignore both Grantaire’s rambling and the way his own cheeks are starting to heat with something not-quite embarrassment. “Well, we  _ are _ supposed to be boyfriends, aren’t we?” His heart is fluttering nervously in his chest—scratch that, it’s flat-out  _ racing _ .

“I—yeah, I guess -”

Before he can lose his nerve, Enjolras steps close to Grantaire and kisses him quickly on the mouth. It’s brief, barely a touch-and-go of their lips, but when he steps back his face is aflame and Grantaire looks as though he’s just been slapped.

“Boyfriends, remember?” Enjolras says, trying—and failing—to keep the nervous tremor out of his voice.

“Yeah,” Grantaire says dazedly, his blue eyes wide and round, his cheeks flushed pink. “Boyfriends.”

Enjolras swallows, staring pointedly at his shoes. “So—I suppose we should head back out to the party."

"What if we don't?"

Enjolras whips his head up to stare at Grantaire so fast, he almost gives himself whiplash. "What?"

"I mean…" Grantaire shoves his hands in his pockets, feigning nonchalance which Enjolras sees through in a heartbeat. It's endearingly adorable. "You clearly haven't kissed anyone before, Apollo, because that was  _ terrible _ . You definitely need more practice—"

Enjolras steps closer. Grantaire's eyes widen. "You'd better teach me, then," Enjolras says, his gaze never leaving Grantaire's.

Grantaire copies him, stepping in closer until their noses are almost touching. "Only if you want me to," he breathes.

"I do," Enjolras whispers, leaning forward slightly, his eyes fluttering closed.

Kissing Grantaire, _ actually  _ kissing Grantaire, is both like falling and flying at once. His stomach swoops with a mixture of fear and excitement and his heart seems to stutter for a moment as their lips meet, soft and warm and sweet. Grantaire’s hands come to rest lightly on his hips and Enjolras finds his hands cradling the back of Grantaire’s head of their own accord. He has no idea what he’s doing, but apparently Grantaire does, because he tilts his mouth on Enjolras’ and whatever they were doing before could  _ not  _ have been kissing, because this feels ten times better.

Grantaire pushes against him and Enjolras stumbles backwards into the wall, fully intending on doing nothing but kiss Grantaire senseless for the rest of the evening. He doesn’t know why he’s never thought of doing this before, why he’s always repressed his feelings for Grantaire as much as he can, because if he’d known this was what being Grantaire’s boyfriend involved, he would have signed up a hell of a lot sooner.

“So  _ this  _ is where you’ve gotten to,” an unfamiliar voice interrupts them, and Enjolras' eyes fly open, his face flushing with embarrassment. He’s uncomfortably aware that he’s currently squashed between Grantaire and the wall, and his hands are tangled in Grantaire’s curls; neither fact seems to have escaped the notice of the two women currently staring them both down, their expressions caught somewhere between amused and unsurprised.

“Uh, hey, Irma, Floréal,” Grantaire says awkwardly, stepping away from Enjolras and self-consciously smoothing his shirtfront down. “I, uh, didn’t know you were looking for me.”

Irma, whose dark cornrow braids are caught in a thick ponytail at the back of her head, gives Grantaire an unimpressed look. “You told us you had a boyfriend, and then you ran off. I expected you to bring him back to meet us, not to go and make out with him in a corridor.”

Grantaire’s face is bright red, and Enjolras is pretty sure his face is almost mirroring Grantaire’s. He’s suddenly very grateful for his bronze skin tone; Grantaire looks dangerously close to self-combustion. “Well, I, um, was going to get him, you see, but we got a little distracted -”

“A little?” the other woman—Floréal?—laughs. She has short hair dyed shades of blue and lavender so bright, it almost hurts Enjolras’ eyes. “You had him up against the  _ wall,  _ Grantaire -”

“I think we’re all missing the point here!” Grantaire interrupts, his voice a few octaves higher than normal. He clears his throat bashfully and takes Enjolras’ hand. “This is, uh, my boyfriend, Enjolras. Enj, this is Irma and Floréal.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Floréal says, looking amused.

“And you,” Enjolras stammers. His mind is still reeling, a constant loop of  _ what the fuck just happened.  _ He’s slightly distracted by Grantaire’s hand in his, and the feeling of him still lingering on his lips.

Irma gives him a once-over, then nods. “Grantaire is impossible,” she says by way of greeting, “though I figure you’ve already worked that out for yourself. But I think you can handle him.”

Enjolras flushes. He’s attended rally after rally, protest after protest, spoken in front of crowds of thousands, yet he’s currently having a very hard time finding words. “Uh, thank you?” he says haltingly. “I think.”

“I think you broke him,” Floréal stage-whispers to Grantaire, looking so gleeful she reminds Enjolras uncomfortably of Courfeyrac. Raising her voice slightly, she takes Irma’s hand. “We’ll go now,” she announces. “The drinks table is calling my name. Besides, you two look as though you’ve got something you need to get back to.” She winks.

Enjolras is stunned into silence, Grantaire just as mute by his side, as the two women sweep back out into the party, leaving awkward silence in their wake. Grantaire swallows loudly.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want it to,” Enjolras says quickly.

Grantaire frowns. “Why wouldn’t I want this to? Unless you’re not comfortable, of course.” He scans Enjolras’ face nervously, biting his lip.

“No, I—I want this. I just want to make sure you do, too,” Enjolras confesses, his heart racing.

A slow grin unfurls across Grantaire’s face. “You know,” he drawls, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before.”

Enjolras scowls. “Oh, shut up.”

“Make me,” Grantaire dares, grinning, and Enjolras takes that as an invitation to press his lips firmly against Grantaire’s again.

He thinks he could definitely get used to this.

Of course, that’s the moment when they’re rudely interrupted yet  _ again,  _ only this time the surprise is even  _ less  _ welcome. “ _ Aha!”  _ Courfeyrac crows, bouncing up and down on the spot, looking so smugly triumphant that Enjolras wouldn’t mind if someone kicked him in the shins right now. “Floréal was  _ right!  _ You two  _ are  _ making out in the corridor! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

“Oh, fuck off,” Grantaire says good-naturedly, not looking anywhere near as bothered by the appearance of their friends as Enjolras is.

“Where’s Bossuet? He owes me twenty dollars,” Bahorel says, grinning at Enjolras. “I  _ told  _ him you two would get together this month. He was adamant it was going to take you at least until June.”

Jehan is squealing like an excited toddler, practically starry-eyed with joy. “You two are  _ so adorable!  _ I need paper, I need to write this down right now, this is going to make the most  _ romantic  _ poem—”

“Would you kindly all vacate the room so I can continue kissing my boyfriend?” Grantaire interrupts pointedly, and Enjolras’ heart does a little skip of excitement at the term.

_ Boyfriend. _

He’s  _ Grantaire’s boyfriend. _

“Okay, okay, we’re going,” Courf whines, although he’s holding his phone suspiciously in one hand. Enjolras has a very bad feeling that this moment is going to resurface as blackmail material in a couple of weeks’ time. “Have fun snogging each other.”

“Like you and Ferre haven’t done that already,” Grantaire retorts, and Courfeyrac has the decency to blush and shoo everyone else out of the corridor.

“Anyway…” Grantaire laughs nervously, looking up at Enjolras from beneath his lashes. “Now that we’re finally alone, I suppose I should ask you officially, shouldn’t I?”

Enjolras glances at Grantaire in surprise. “Ask me what?”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire says, smiling hopefully, “will you be my boyfriend?”

Enjolras’ heart stutters in his chest. “Yes,” he whispers, and then, louder, “yes, yes,  _ yes.” _

“Okay,” Grantaire laughs, his eyes shining with happiness. He leans up to kiss Enjolras briefly on the nose, and Enjolras nearly goes cross-eyed watching his movements. “Do you want to head back out to the party?”

“I hate parties,” Enjolras admits. “I was leaving when you ran into me.”

“Leaving?” Grantaire frowns. “Where were you planning on going?”

“I was going to go and work on my speech,” Enjolras explains. He frowns in bewilderment when Grantaire starts laughing. “What? I  _ was.  _ The rally—”

“I know,” Grantaire grins. “It’s just—only  _ you  _ would leave a party to go and write a speech, Apollo.”

Enjolras flushes. “I need to finish it before the next meeting—”

“I’m teasing, Enj, I’m teasing,” Grantaire assures him, a fond smile on his face. “Come on, then. Let’s get out of here. Want to go on a date?”

“A  _ date? _ ” Enjolras echoes. “Now?”

Grantaire shrugs. “Why not? Everyone else is going to be busy here for the next few hours. We may as well have some time to ourselves.”

“Okay,” Enjolras agrees. Feeling bold, he takes Grantaire’s hand and laces their fingers together, unable to help a smile as Grantaire’s cheeks turn red with happiness. “Where should we go?”

Grantaire waves a hand dismissively. “We’ll figure that out on the way,” he says breezily, skipping ahead and dragging Enjolras with him. “Come on!”

Enjolras rolls his eyes fondly at Grantaire’s eagerness but allows himself to be dragged down the corridor in the direction of the exit. A thought suddenly occurs to him and he stops dead, jerking Grantaire with him, who yelps in surprise. “What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Enjolras. “Did you change your mind?”

“I need to tell you something,” Enjolras says seriously. Grantaire’s expression sobers to match his, and when Enjolras is sure he has his full attention, he says honestly, “I love you.”

Grantaire’s breath catches and he stares at Enjolras for a long moment, happiness dawning across his face like the first rays of sunlight on a spring morning. “I love you, too,” he says breathlessly.

Enjolras kisses him again, simply because he can.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Happy Barricade Day!
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think of it if you've got time to drop a comment :)


End file.
